


Time in a Bottle

by quartetship



Series: A Fairy Tale [4]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Fairy!Marco, M/M, Mortality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-09 08:48:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6899227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quartetship/pseuds/quartetship
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>'If I could put time in a bottle...'</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time in a Bottle

**Author's Note:**

> So a while back, a fandom friend named Sarah posted some photos on twitter, and I was massively inspired, so have some bittersweet, self-indulgent JM from my fairy!Marco universe.
> 
> \--

"So what's the point of these, exactly?"

Jean watched his aunt tie another glass jar - half filled with plain water - onto a low-hanging branch. Lori had strung dozens of them up in the trees that lined the curving walkways leading through the cabins and cottages of the small resort she operated, each one weighing down a sturdy branch as it swung from a thick rope. She tightened the knot on the bottle in her hand, and let it go, the tree pulling back with the release of its branch, the bottle bobbing at its end.

"To catch the light," she responded, as if it were obvious. "They look nice in the evenings, and the guests will love them."

Eyeing the bottles as they swung from the trees, Jean frowned, skeptical. "Not sure how nice they look, but if you say so, Lori." His aunt laughed, and continued her work, tying bottles to branches.

\--

That evening, Jean returned to the cabin he shared with Marco, and found it empty. Heading back outside, he glanced down the path that had led him there, wondering if Marco might have gone to meet him and missed him along the way. Just at the edge of Jean's line of sight, he did spot Marco, but he was only visible by the way the light sparkled through his tiny, iridescent wings. He was in fairy form; Jean closed their door behind himself, and headed down the trail to catch up with him.

Flitting between the multitude of bottles that were swaying in the light breeze of early evening, Marco looked overjoyed. He loved any small change of scenery, any tiny detour from the everyday. Jean wagered it was hundreds of years of sameness around him that had made him that way, but something about Marco's zest for life seemed to pure not to be inborn, just part of who he was. He smiled brightly enough that even at his tiny size, yards away as he swirled through the air around the suspended glass, Jean could see how happy he was.

"They're beautiful!" He cried, his voice a high squeal to Jean's ears as he fluttered past his head. Jean snorted with laughter, and Marco landed on the ground nearby, growing in size until he was just past Jean's equal. His excitement didn't waver; he reached for one of the bottles, running a hand over it reverently. "Aren't they?"

Jean shrugged. In truth, he wasn't terribly enthused about what he considered akin to wet garbage hanging in the trees around his workplace and home, but seeing Marco so excited made it hard not to smile as well.

"They're alright, I guess." It was the highest praise he could muster, but luckily Marco's spirits didn't seem even slightly dampened.

"I love the way they catch the light; it's like a little piece of the sunset, stopped up in there."

Marco had all but parroted Lorraine, talking about the catching of the light in the glass. Jean shook his head at the way Marco was handling the bottles, grinning as the fading sunlight filtered through them and lit his face. But when Jean stopped to watch that happen, to really look at the glow of the setting sun as it warmed Marco from his hands to his ears, he finally saw the beauty everyone seemed so caught up in.

Like the sun itself had softened its light, and settled in Marco's hand to paint the flowers that scrolled across his pale skin with a wash of pink and purple hues, it was absolutely _gorgeous._ The forest was a backdrop that faded into muted tones behind him, and Marco looked like something out of a book, a painting in a museum. A perfect picture.

Time stopped for a moment, the sun sitting in Marco's hands before sinking lower in the sky. Jean smiled along with him, wishing that it could stay that way, just a little while longer. If only Marco's magic could do _that._

Before he could stop himself, that very sentiment was escaping his lips on a sigh.

"Wish we could stay here. Like this, I mean."

Marco grinned wider, oblivious. "We can stay out here as long as you like, Jean." He held his cupped hands out to Jean, letting him take hold of the bottle of sunlight, trapped in shallow water. Jean took it, but shook his head.

"That's not what I meant. I mean..." He held the bottle in his hands aloft, the light already beginning to fade inside it. "It's like these bottles, you know? Right now, we're here, and nothing's wrong, and everything's great. It's like we've got the sunshine in this bottle, right in our hands."

Nodding as he listened, Marco stepped closer. Jean let go of the bottle, let it fall from his hands and bob with the give of the branch, swinging freely just below the line of the horizon. The light inside disappeared entirely.

"But it only lasts a little while. Before too long, it's gone. Just like... Just like _me."_

Jean looked down at the rope that held the bottle, thumbing absently at the knot around its neck. It began to give under his touch, and he pulled his hand away, expecting a fall and a shatter. But Marco was behind him, one arm coming to rest around his waist as he lay his chin on Jean's shoulder, and he reached out to take hold of the bottle before it could drop.

"That's true," he conceded. It wasn't often that either of them made mention of Jean's mortality, but it didn't mean they weren't both cognizant of it. "But that doesn't make the time that it holds the light any less magical, does it?" He tapped his fingers against the corked mouth of the bottle, and the water inside was illuminated again, this time with a soft, white light that had nothing to do with the sun. Smiling, he placed it in Jean's hands.

"Pretty," Jean murmured, trying not to let his voice waver. Marco nodded, and wrapped both arms tighter around his middle, the two of them standing at the edge of the whispering forest as the sun dipped beyond the horizon completely. Above them, fireflies lit the skies, welcoming the light of stars as they began to shine. Jean inhaled, breathed in yet another perfect moment with Marco, and then let it out, fully aware that he could never get it back.

"Just wish your magic could slow things down, once in a while. I know I'm not the one who really has to deal with it, but it'd be nice not to get old and wrinkly and then die off on you after a couple of decades." His sentence was punctuated by a loud sniffle that escaped him beyond his control, and biting his lips together, he tasted the salt of the tears streaking his cheeks. Marco only held him tighter, rocking both of them gently until Jean could breathe steadily again.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, turning to press his face to Marco's chest. "Didn't mean to get all sappy over a bottle. I know your magic isn't my thing to complain about. M'just being stupid right now."

"You're not stupid," Marco assured him. "You know I think about this a lot, too. Not because I don't want you to get old; I'll love you, even then. I just don't want to live in a world without you in it, but that's not something I can keep from happening, as much as I wish I could." His wings fluttered behind him, falling until they were out of sight, and he looked like nothing more than a human. "You mean more to me than magic. I'd give any of it - all of it - to keep you here with me forever. You _know_ that."

"I know that." Jean repeated, nodding into Marco's shoulder. Marco pressed kisses to the tiny sliver of Jean's face that wasn't hidden against him, swirling fingers through his hair. Jean hummed, content, knowing he should be thankful for yet another perfect moment. But it didn't stop him wishing for more. "Guess I just wish I could put _us_ in a bottle, too."

He wrapped fingers tighter around the bottle in his hands. When Marco pulled back to look at him, the bottle glowed brighter than it had before, and its light was warmer. It lit both of their faces in a way that reminded Jean of the sunset before; Marco cupped hands over Jean's, and they held it, together.

"Maybe we can't," Marco admitted, a smile returning to his lips. "But maybe we'll come up with something else. The light doesn't have to go out."

Jean wanted to argue. Of course it had to go out; no light could shine forever, especially not the one he was talking about. But the bottle in his hands glowed brighter, and in that moment he couldn't think of an argument that would stand against its luminescence. He sighed his concession, nodding in spite of himself.

"Yeah. Maybe we will. Life in a bottle sounds stuffy, anyway."

At that, Marco laughed, and Jean let himself smile at the beautiful sound of it.

They walked home together, Jean still clutching the bottle in the hand that wasn't holding Marco's. Before they slept, he placed it on the nightstand beside their bed, and was amazed when it still twinkled in the light of early morning the next day.

As the warmth of summer faded into the cool breeze of fall, Jean's worries began to disappear. But the light from the bottle never did the same. It shone on against the darkest of nights and the worst of storms, endlessly, faithfully. Like a promise of love.

Like a moment of perfect happiness, captured, his to enjoy. Forever.


End file.
